


Remind Me

by BurningUpASunJustToSayHello



Series: Twisted Verse [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode Rewrite: s07e10 Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningUpASunJustToSayHello/pseuds/BurningUpASunJustToSayHello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was supposed to be a regular night on the TARDIS turns into a nightmare when a figure from the Doctor's shadowy past terrorizes the duo trapped in the time ship with ugly truths finally clawing their way to the surface. And with dark secrets and even darker memories, somebody might not make it out alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My re-write of Journey to the Center of the TARDIS. Picks up a few weeks after Sunday Morning.

“We’re not going to make it!” Clara screamed as the Doctor clasped her hand tightly as the duo ran through the halls of the TARDIS. A shadowy figure was quick at their heels when it let out a piercing shriek. The Doctor’s long legs sped faster and faster; the only thing keeping them together was his hand in hers.

Clara’s veins smarted with a second wind of adrenaline and her heart slammed against her sternum. Her lungs seemed to fill with sand. 

A large industrial looking door had swum across her vision and the Doctor quickly wrenched it open; its hinges shuddering under the force of the blow. Clara couldn’t focus on anything except a hand pressing at the small of her back, urging her in. She registered the hand belonging to the Doctor as he shoved her into the small room. 

The creature had found them at the other end of the hall and trudged towards them with a bellow. As soon as her feet crossed the threshold, he slammed the door shut. The figure slammed into the hard barrier. The beast beat upon the cold metal and screamed in frustration. It threw itself at the door, clawed at the small window, anything to try to get inside. Clara’s vision blurred. She tried focusing on the Doctor throwing himself against the door like a barricade but, instead of a grey waistcoat was a dusty, rumpled tuxedo.

Clara blinked again and his former clothing fizzled back into place. This cannot be happening, she panicked silently.

Cold fear was worming its way through her body. 

Images came in hints in her mind; a glimpse of two pairs of sad old eyes, the feeling of hot anger and bubbling jealousy, a white flash of polished marble, and the lasting image of a torn red dress.

“Clara? Clara! Just…stay awake, please for me!” the Doctor’s frantic words echoed on deaf ears as the dark spots blotted her vision. Clara’s breath was shallow; the room spun and before Clara knew it, her head collided with the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

3 hours before...

It wasn’t even a Wednesday and Clara wanted lounge around on the TARDIS with the Doctor. After the one fateful Sunday at the start of the month, the Doctor started popping in at random times in her week; most of the times they wouldn’t even do anything except lay around and relax. Today was the day she wanted no exception. 

After a stressful day trying to reign in rambunctious students, Clara didn’t know if she wanted to pass out or cry. It had been chilly outside and her cardigan and short sleeved button up was doing nothing to help her. She came into her apartment expecting to fall asleep on the couch but, instead she found a familiar blue box sitting in her front room. Her brown eyes softened at the sight and quickly wondered inside. She found her lover sprawled out reading in the screening room. The Doctor’s round reading glasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose as he lightly thumbed through his fat novel. 

Treading lightly to not disturb him, Clara made her way over to the couch. When she came to its’ foot, Clara crawled into his lap. Sure, it was a little childish Clara thought, but after today she really couldn’t care less. 

The Doctor’s muscles reflexively tensed at the new weight before realizing it was only Clara. His arms opened to embrace her warmly before returning to his reading. Clara made a small noise before tucking herself under his chin. 

Afternoons like this were always Clara’s favorite. Sometimes they only remained wrapped up for ten minutes and sometimes it was just the two of them dozing until midnight. 

“Long day?” he inquired into her hairline. 

She shifted so she could look up at the Time Lord. “Yeah, what are you reading?” Clara asked back.

The Doctor licked his finger and turned a page. 

“Shakespeare. Met him once, you know, brilliant man but you know what they say never meet your heroes. The same thing happened with Agatha Christe.” He droned on. Clara just snuggled deeper into his chest. His smooth voice rolled over the words like London’s fog as he spoke of the misadventures he lived through with historical figures and a few, “Clara never meet your heroes” thrown in occasionally. 

“Hey, come on now,” he said after he finished rambling and rubbed her arm, “tell me what’s wrong.” 

Clara sighed; she didn’t even know why she was upset, it was just another normal day at work. Instead of talking about her nonexistent problems, Clara reached up to plant a tender kiss on his lips. The Doctor instantly accepted her answer by welcoming the kiss. His lips parted slightly as a small pleasurable groan escaped from them. The book was abandoned, pressed against the small of her back and his glasses were skewed even more. 

When Clara finally pulled back the Doctor gave her a goofy grin as the glasses slipped completely off his face. She buried her head into his chest. 

“What’s this about; did I do something?” the Doctor questioned, if not a little fearfully. 

Clara answered him, “No, I just needed that today.” 

The Doctor, seemingly satisfied with her answer, picked his book off its spot on her back and put it onto a nearby side table; along with stuffing his glasses back in an inside pocket on his coat. Clara sighed, knowing that she had to move so the Doctor could get up. So she let herself soak in the warmth of the room for a few seconds longer before sliding off the Time Lord. He was quickly on his feet beside her before the pair made their way to the Consul Room. 

“Where are we going today— finally getting around to those cocktails on the moon?” Clara teased. She knew his driving was a touchy subject. There was a pause before a scoff rang out from the Doctor’s spot next to her. 

“There’s nothing wrong with getting mixed up sometimes!” he huffed, “It happens to everyone; I’ll have you know the Christopher Columbus got lost on his way to the New World five times—of course three of the five of those were my fault.” He paused; thinking about his argument while Clara smirked, “It’s still two times!” 

They came out into the glitzy Consul Room and the Doctor stopped to lean over some buttons. His hands danced over the glowing metal with ease as he glanced back and forth from the monitor to his hands. 

“We could go to the moon, if you’re in the mood for that kind of thing,” he started, “Or there has been an ice planet on my to-do-list lately.” Clara leaned against a railing and considered her options. 

“Will said planet involve running?” The Doctor rolled his eyes. 

“Most likely.” 

“I’m leaning towards the cocktails.” 

“Let’s get going then!” 

A lever was pulled and the TARDIS came to life and began to shake. The trademark sound of the machine began to ring out in the room as the duo shot forward into time. 

“Do you mind crowds?” He yelled her way. A tremor shook the ship and Clara stumbled. 

“What kind of question is that?!” She shouted back, bewildered. 

“It matters, okay!” The Time Lord hastily reached for another control as the shaking increased. Clara huffed, seriously what kind of question was that, she wondered. 

“I don’t know, no?” Clara just threw the answer out with a confused hand gesture. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice as he hammered away, running around the consul to twist a crank and then to flip a switch. The overhead lights flickered to a red. Clara stumbled over to the Doctor as the shaking increased. 

“Is that supposed to happen?” She questioned loudly. The Doctor flipped another switch. 

“No, not really!” he sounded frantic. The lights continued to flash red, as if warning them. The rumbling beneath their feet had increased even more. Throughout all of this, Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this seemed familiar. With the shaking and worried ship tethering through the Time Vortex to the less than calm Doctor desperately trying to fix the problem, she felt something tickling the back of her mind. No, she thought, it wasn’t a tickle; it was like a knock. The knocking of something that wanted to be freed. 

After a surprisingly large shake shook the floor and next to her, the Doctor let out a yelp as he slipped backwards. His hand snagged on her jacket sleeve and a squeak slipped from her lips as Clara fell with him. Clara felt the jarring impact when she landed on top of her lover. His arms instantly wrapped around her and he curled in close to her body. Her blood thundered through her body. The pair clung to each other as the trembling eventually calmed and the lights died out and lead way to the pitch black room. The Doctor released her and got to his feet before pulling Clara up next to him. 

“I’m guessing we’re not on the moon then,” She called out and heard him type something on the keyboard. Emergency power hummed to life, painting the room with an eerie green glow. The Doctor turned to face her. 

“No,” he clasped his hands together, “We’re still in the Vortex, to my knowledge. Something malfunctioned and I’m not sure what but Clara, we might have a problem. I’ll run a scan to see what the issue is.” 

Brushing off his flippant reply, Clara waited patiently for the verdict. They stood in silence, one not sure what to say to the other, praying for a solution to flash across the screen. When a beeping signaled the scan was complete, Clara crowded next to the Doctor to see the analysis. An area was highlighted in the very center of the ship’s confusing blueprint. It was made up with circles and lines, much like the language the sticky notes around the TARDIS were written in. On occasion, a name in English would appear in bright blinking characters. 

The highlighted area was labeled “Time Rotor”. 

“The Time Rotor; what does that do?” Clara prodded. The Doctor examined the section with a steady gaze before typing out orders. 

“It keeps track of the timelines and helps keeps them sorted, like brain does with memories. Except,” he paused and zoomed in on what looked like a crack in the pipe, “A pipe is damaged and now the rotor is leaking. The TARDIS knows better than to fly with it broken so now she’s just… stopped.” He crossed his arms with a sigh. 

“So what, all you have to do is patch it and we can be on our way?” Clara questioned. She knew there had to be something more important about it than just straightening their time periods. 

As if sensing her curiosity, the Doctor motioned her to follow him down the steps to the lower level. “Yes and no, it takes a special type of alloy to keep it contained but, that’s not the problem.” The Doctor called behind him, flapping his hands. When they reached the last step, he made his way over to what looked like a shelf of paint cans. Clara watched as his eyes flitted over the labels until he found the one he was looking for. With a satisfied sound, the Doctor plucked it off the shelf and continued further into the room. 

“The problem with this is that the Time Rotor is very important for the occupants’ sanity—that mainly means you, Clara.” Clara trailed in his wake as he began pulling various things from boxes and shelves and adding them to his growing armful of materials. 

“My sanity, why would that be at risk; are you calling me mad?” she demanded, slightly offended. He turned to her. 

“Of course not,” he added a mask to his load, “What I’m trying to say is that if it’s leaking, the rotor creates apparitions of times that have already happened, time that is to be, and what is happening right now. These hallucinations can become so real that they are solid beings and will not be kind to you if you meet one.” 

The Doctor finished his collection off with a pair of gloves. Clara followed him back up the staircase and to the main level, trying to digest the new information. She pondered the thoughts as she watched the Doctor suit up for the repair. He had shucked his tweed coat off and threw it over the nearest railing, leaving him standing in a gray waistcoat, white dress shirt, and charcoal slacks. 

Next he picked out the metal can and attached it, along with a paint brush to a tool belt which promptly went around his slim waist. 

“So a memory will come and attack me, that’s what you’re telling me,” Clara finally stated. She internally snorted at the silliness of the situation; a figment of a time stream coming after her. 

“Clara this is serious.” the Doctor warned, slipping the mask around his neck before starting on the black gloves. “I need you to stay here in the Console Room, at all costs, in case the rotor has already started leaking bad enough for the apparitions to solidify.” 

Clara’s jaw dropped. “Stay here?” she huffed angrily and stomped over to where he stood and shook an accusing finger at him. “You want me to just wait here while you’re off, God knows where, fixing a leak that could kill the both of us; no, no chance in hell! I’m going with you!” 

The Doctor sighed, hunched over to meet her furious gaze, and cupped her cheek with a gloved hand. “Clara, please, there isn’t a better way to help me then to just stay safe. The alloy I have to patch the crack with is toxic which is why I have this,” he gestured to the mask that hung around his neck, “The best you can do is avoid going further into the TARDIS so you won’t run into the hallucinations.” The Time Lord’s voice softened to a whisper. “Okay?” 

Clara knew she lost this argument, his mind was set, and she was just going to have to sit this one out. There was nothing that she could say to get him to budge. Clara carefully leaned up to peck his cheek. 

“Fine, but I expect to see you back here the moment you’re done; understood?” she said. The Doctor gave her a small smile, withdrew his hand, and pulled on the mask. 

“Yes ma'am,” he answered, his voice distorted by the mask. With one final glance in Clara’s direction he disappeared out of sight into the shadows of the corridor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, so I'm sorry this chapter is kind of crappy. I had such a hard time writing it, my betas are busy so this is unbeta-d, and I have very little free time so I'm sorry its so sucky.

Clara watched the clock turn towards the second hour of the Doctor’s disappearance and was almost at the end of her rope. The Consul Room’s flashy appearance was probably the biggest lie Clara had ever seen. Sure there were lots of blinking buttons and flashing lights but there really wasn't a whole lot more to it; just a big room with a bunch of buttons, she decided. She felt like she had paced around the consul so much that she thought she could see a hole forming. 

Finally Clara made up her mind just to go in after the Doctor, dangerous blurry memories or not, she certainly was not staying in the room for one more second. Marching to the same door the Doctor had gone through, Clara walked quickly through its frame and into the corridor. It looked very different than what she was used to, instead of fluorescent blue, the lights turned an angry shade of red. The hallways looked cold and looming as she descended deeper into the TARDIS, their doorways menacing jaws waiting to snap down on her if she passed under. 

So far no ghosts, Clara thought. Carefully, she continued on down the halls of the time ship. She passed the familiar entrance to the kitchen and then the swimming pool when she was stopped by the Doctor. Clara’s heart stuttered and her breath caught in her throat, praying he didn’t glance her way. The mask still muzzled his mouth and nose, the can still hanging from his belt. Exactly how the Doctor looked when he left her more than an hour ago. 

Her feet were seemingly glued in place with embarrassment. He turned. Clara’s heart raced. Instead of an irritated remark his lanky form passed right by her. A huff of temporary relief washed over Clara as the apparition disappeared down the corridor she had just come from. It was a memory. 

“A harmless memory of the Doctor is all it was,” she told herself. The invisible weight lifted from her feet and she walked away, shivering. 

The next hall Clara came to was badly damaged. Debris and shrapnel littered the floor, like someone tore the room apart looking for something. The lights flickered on one side and bright sparks sprung from a broken light. But what covered the left hand wall made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. 

All at once, it seemed all too cold. Goose bumps sprung up on her arms as Clara traced her fingertips along a group of five crude lines that ripped through the metal. It reminded her of a hand or claw being drug across a surface. The ship groaned with a dull sound that made Clara jump. She tried to assure herself that it was the TARDIS anyways. When the noise sounded again, closer, she noted, Clara ran. A scream ripped through the air; a scream that could split metal. Heavy footsteps followed. She ran and could have sworn hell was hunting her down, like the hunting dogs were nipping at her heels. The wailing echoed louder now, with each step she took. Stealing a look back over her shoulder, another needle of dread stabbed into her heart. The shrieks belonged to a shadowy human-like figure. There was nothing left except its shape, the rest a fuzzy black blur. It bound towards her, ripping apart the interior of the ship as it went. 

Clara refocused on escaping whatever crazed nightmare the thing was. Her pulse blended with her footfalls and her blood boiled. It bubbled under the surface of her skin and pumped her veins with adrenaline when she saw what lie ahead—a dead end. 

Clara calmly slowed down and the creature gained on her. Its screeches piercing her ears but this time Clara thought she could make out words. 

“T--e me b--” the shrill tone blended the sentence together. “Take me back! Take me back!” it screamed at the top of its lungs. By this time Clara had stopped to face nightmare of a memory. Tears flowed loosely from her brown eyes as she waited. 

The beast closed in; its hands outstretched and as loud as ever. 

“Take...me...back!” it wailed, growing closer. 

Clara knew she had to think of something to live. No Doctor to back her up, no safety net. The memory almost near sobbing as it listed from side to side. Her eyes grew wide and Clara scrambled to dodge its outstretched arm. The figure lost its footing and crashed into the wall. Clara panicked. She did the only thing people knew how to do in these times so she sprinted away from the beast once more. 

Clara spied the friendly doorway of the library and made a beeline to hide in the shelves, praying the creature wasn’t very smart. Despite the library’s size, her hiding spot was close to the front entrance. The front shelves held jars and bottles alphabetized with a neatly written label in a language she didn’t understand. Everything was silent. Further in the back of the room and in the upper levels were books upon stacks of books. They absorbed the sharp sounds of the room through their ancient covers. The dreadful pitter patter of feet rang out from the front of the library. Screeching was replaced with whimpering. Clara backed up against the shelf with jars. One clattered to the floor and shattered. The whimpering came to a halt. No sobbing or screaming, no footsteps, not even a single breath. Clara covered her mouth to keep from calling out. She broke out into a cold sweat. A hand latched onto her shoulder, her body went rigid. Maybe if she stood still, it would leave, Clara thought. 

It tugged and Clara screamed. She beat on the hand with her fists and shook her body, desperately trying to shake the phantom’s grip. The hand tightened around the fabric of her jacket and began to pull. The other hand clutched her flushed cheek and buried it’s fingers into her flesh. Clara thought she felt them start to bruise. As the memory reeled her back against the shelf, Clara’s fingers stumbled over the buttons, hurriedly trying to undo them. The last button bit through the cotton and tore the fabric; Clara was free. She exploded away from the self and more bottles shattered to the floor. The figure roared. Clara bolted through the bookcases; tears streaming down her face in terror. 

“You stupid box help me!” she screamed. The TARDIS flashed its red tinted lights, as if shrugging. Nothing else happened and the memory was still on her trail. Clara tried to slow its path by knocking books off of their shelves but it just stumbled over them and continued on. 

Clara’s heart thundered against her rib cage and threatened to burst out of her chest. Finally she found the door to the one of the main hallways and sprinted through it, praying that the TARDIS would have the decency to slam the door behind her. Of course Clara’s hope was shot down when the memory’s growls echoed down the halls. Clara skidded to a halt at the base of the catwalk of the Consul Room. The figure wasn’t shaken however; it sped towards her with sleek outstretched fingers. 

Clara screamed in frustration as she thundered up the ramp and ran towards the doors. She yanked at the handles and when they wouldn’t budge, she tried banging on them but they refused to open. Clara turned on her heel and came face to face with the shadowy memory. 

“Take me back!” it bellowed. 

Clara thought it almost sounded shrill, like a woman’s voice. Her hands covered her eyes and Clara knew there was no way out of this one.


	4. Chapter 4

Clara felt the dread creep into her bones as soon as she felt the heat of its fingertips reach towards her covered face. The fingers radiated warmth and Clara didn’t think they had even touched her skin yet. 

Clara’s mind flooded with terror as the figure screeched the same statement over and over again. The backs of her eyelids flashed with hazy white lights as the room started to rise up, as if suspended on a spiral staircase, and spin. As the breath in Clara’s lungs got shallow, she frantically racked her brain for what could possibly stop the suffering memory’s screams. They pieced her eardrums and drowned out the humming of the Counsel Room. Her own scream added to the ringing in her ears. 

Until the only thing Clara could hear was white noise and then, nothing. 

The fear in her system had lessened as the quiet sound of the TARDIS eased her ears. Her senses slowly came back to her when Clara realized her hands still covered her eyes. Timidly, they fell to her sides and she screamed. 

Instead of seeing the shadowy figure or even nothing at all, Clara was met with someone very familiar. Another memory of the masked Doctor gripped her shoulders tight. The scream bubbled up and ripped Clara’s throat like a scalpel was slicing the insides open. Like the sound itself tore aching sores through the soft flesh. 

The memory of the Doctor reacted instantly, as if on cue. It dropped its Sonic and ripped off the right glove off its hand and clapped it—solidly, Clara registered—over her mouth. Her hands flapped uselessly at her sides as she tried to shove the figure away. Try after try, her fists met a solid wall, her nerves rising higher with each failed attempt. Carefully, the memory of the Doctor lowered her with it to the TARDIS floor. With her screams muffled by its hand she caught slices of what it was trying to say. 

“It’s me! Clara it’s me, I’m real!” it yelled firmly above her shrieks. 

Clara’s screams were quickly reduced to heavy breaths. Not even the memory like the one chasing her had been able to directly respond to her. The warmth of his hand against her lips calmed her racing pulse. Her eyes focused on the Doctor. The sight of his rumpled waistcoat and dusty face put Clara’s mind at ease. She relaxed into his touch. Her mind slowed. 

Clara noticed the Doctor was breathing almost as heavily as she was as he pulled his hand away slowly and peeled off his other glove. 

“You’re fine Clara she won’t come back for a few minutes. I promise,” he soothed. Clara felt boneless as she allowed the Doctor to haul her up to her knees and meet his worried gaze. Thoughts spinning, she tried to process what the Doctor just told her. Clara blinked. 

She. The Doctor said she, Clara thought. He couldn’t possibly know what or who that thing was…could he? Clara turned over the thought. The shrillness of the voice fell into place. The memory was of a woman, not a girl, Clara was sure of at least that. A woman the Doctor seemed to know well at that. She remembered how the Doctor said she reminded him of someone he once knew and Clara grew worried. The memory—woman—Clara amended, was in obvious pain. Would the Doctor just one day up and leave; find some far off corner of the universe to toss her into? 

The Doctor’s hands on her shoulders turned to stone as her anxiety bubbled up and mingled with the cooling adrenaline. Despite that, Clara said nothing about the mysterious woman that almost took her life. Instead she allowed the Doctor to peck her on the lips and pull her to her feet. 

Even though their skin only touched for mere moments, Clara felt the feverish heat radiating off of his skin. The thought of his skin being warmer than hers concerned her. Her memories of his kisses had been cool lipped smiles tumbling to meet her flushed ones and the chilled breathy kisses that they stole together in the crisp night air. 

Her hands trembled slightly as they rose up to cup his face. Even before her hands met with the soft skin Clara felt the heat radiating off of them; they burned when her hands made contact. 

“Where did it go? It was going to kill me,” Clara asked, her voice echoing in the empty room. 

The Doctor laid his hands over hers, the heat almost unbearable. “I dissolved her for now; she’ll come back in a few moments so we have to go.” He rasped. 

“Why are you so warm?” Clara let him pull her hands to her sides. 

“When I heard you scream I ran towards the sound. The thought of you hurt in my care terrified me,” the Doctor said, his lips turning up into an embarrassed grin as he hastily added, “It’s also excruciatingly hot where the leak is.” 

Clara snickered weakly, the Doctor tugging her hands to their sides. He left her right hand clasped feverishly in his left reassuring Clara’s nerves further. 

“There is only one room we’ll be safe in Clara,” he mused as he began walking up the ramp, away from the hallway he’d disappeared into two hours before. 

“And what room is that?” 

“The Eye of Harmony, a dying star, very dangerous place. She won’t manifest for much longer but we must stay locked in until she disperses completely. I patched the leak so it won’t be much longer now but she’s such a powerful memory for the TARDIS so I can’t be too sure…” he babbled on until Clara missed a step. 

She felt his eyes scan over her in silent question. 

“She, how do you know it’s a she?” 

Clara watched the Doctor struggle with his next words. 

“Certain,” he paused, “…frequencies and movements are distinctive towards certain things like gender.” 

Clara wouldn’t let the inkling that the Doctor knew what the memory was go and let it play through her mind as they sunk further into the TARDIS. 

After only minutes of walking, a familiar wail pierced her skin and the Doctor ran, pulling Clara with him, further into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! Are you ready for round 3?


End file.
